Moving On
by liclacpresent
Summary: "The summer was ending. No more fun, no more pirates adventures, no more picnics shared with the whole family in the Holmes garden. Mycroft was leaving to London." All separate them, the distance, the lack of comprehension, but Mycroft and Sherlock are still brothers. Mycroft has to deal with his 5years old brother on Holidays in his new flat in London. Brotherly love.
1. Chapter 1

_**Sherlock**_

**_Author's Note:_**

_Main Pairing: __Mycroft Holmes/ Gregory Lestrade_

_Pairing: __ Sherlock Holmes/ John Watson_

_Warning: I don't really know how this story will end -scratch that, I know exactly how, but it will imply some homosexual relation, so please, if you are not okay with that, don't read it._

The summer was ending. No more fun, no more pirates adventures, no more picnics shared with the whole family in the Holmes garden.

Mycroft was leaving to London.

Sherlock, who was a five-years old at that time, had a rough time to understand why his big brother wouldn't play with him anymore. Even in the early July, his brother started to withdrawn and became distant, bit by bit.

And in Mycroft's mind, that was surely one of the hardest thing he had never done. He blamed his parents to let him have to break the news to his baby brother. He didn't know how to do it properly and opted for the easiest way: not to say a thing at all. He reassured himself, thinking that putting some distance between him and his brother was the wisest thing he could do. Therefore, he would not be so heartbroken in September… Would he?

It never prevented Sherlock to poke his brother though.

"Mycroft, can you read me this book?"

"Mycroft, look at the drawing I made! It's a big organ in a box!"

"Mycroft, why do you no listen to me? I said I caught the neighbor's cat and I made him take a bath!"

"Mycroft, I have finished my experiment! It's all green AND it has exploded all over the kitchen!"

The former would only stay silent or hum in approval but focused on his search of a flat, while Sherlock began to feel rejected.

London was very expensive for a teenager, but he counted on the help of his family. After all, he was the first born, and he had been accepted in a very well-known university. That was fair. But he couldn't find himself searching for a flat as rich as the Holmes Manor. He couldn't get himself to think that he would be someone who only had to clap in his hand to have something. He deserved his place in the University but not a well-looking flat which he wouldn't pay the rent. His eyes went on a flat in Baker Street. After some calls, he got a rendezvous with the landlady some days after. He shut his laptop, and slank in his chair, relaxed.

That was before his dear brother came in his bedroom. Mycroft couldn't see him, as he stopped just behind his chair, and made no move to climb on it as usual.

The displays of affections asking by Sherlock the later days had been more and more eccentric. Clearly, he didn't buy the fact that his elder brother didn't like his experiments anymore. He searched a way to catch his attention, no matter what. Then, he gave up, and only went to him to ask him what he thought was the more logical question.

"Mycroft, why did you stop lovin' me?"

Mycroft's eyes went wide and frantic before he composed himself and turned to his little brother. He was at loss of words. **That** was the conversation he had tried to avoid since the moment he had received his letter which said that he was accepted in London. He kept saying to himself that he was just trying to find better words to explain. The truth was he didn't think of anything albeit his flat.

And right now all he could see was a little boy with a cat plush, eyes glistering with tears.

He picked him up and set him up in his lap. There was an awkward pause, while Sherlock fought very hard not to fell apart in front of his big brother, because he was a big boy now. Like him. That was his mum who told him that. When he had fallen of a tree two days ago and he had wanted to cry and run to his brother.

-'m a big boy.

-I know.

That's what all could Mycroft offered? STUPID, he thought. More awkward pause until…

-Wanna know a secret? Said the little boy in a very sad voice.

-I do.

-Last night, I couldn't sleep. I was going to the kitchen to grab a bit of milk and I heard Mummy talking to Daddy. She said that you have found a new home in London. They were delighted. I really thought that we can't change our family even if we try. Are you going to have new brothers? Like me? That's why you didn't want to play with me anymore, did you? It's because you already played pirates with someone else. That's fine. 'm a big boy. Pirate could be alone too. They don't need a team or anything. Just a parrot. Even if Skull *he pointed to his plush*, he's neither not very fun to play with nor a good parrot.

Mycroft had a hard time to process what was his brother was trying to say, because that didn't make really sense, but he couldn't let him think that. Then, it hit him like a truck. A vague of sadness washed him.

-Sherlock, I'm not going to change my family.

Hope danced in the eyes of the little boy.

-For real? So you stay here?

-I would like very much, Sherlock, but it's not possible.

Then, Sherlock just shut himself down. Voices came through Mycroft's mind, saying that he was a real monster as his brother began to stare at the wall blankly.

-Daddy says that too. When he doesn't want to deal with me. You're just like him. Sherlock said in a hollow voice.

There was no accusation, just a fact. And it hurt so much.

Just as Sherlock began to shift to get down of his brother's lap, Mycroft caught him by the arm and made him look in the eyes.

-Maybe I am. In so many ways, I look like Father. But I love you like I do, not like anyone else. You're my baby brother. I am not going to change my family, I only have a baby brother, haven't' I? He smiled sadly. I am going to miss you, you know? I am not going in London for fun Sherlock, I have to do my studies and then I could get a job, and buy you more set of experiments!

-That's not what I want, he cried, stop being like Father, you can't buy me!

And then, he ran off.

Mycroft sighed and rubbed his face. That went all wrong.

_[To be Continued]_

_A/N: In the next chapter, Mycroft will go to London to visit 221B Baker Street, with Sherlock, which reluctantly went with him, with the hope that London coudn't please his brother._

_Note:_

_Reviews are welcome. I normally do not care about it but I want to know if I let it drop or if I continue._


	2. Chapter 2

Days after, Sherlock was let alone in his bedroom, not that he wanted to go elsewhere anyway. He just sat on the edge of the frame of the window, and looked outside. He wondered what London looked like, if it was very different from his countryside, if they had electricity and if they talked the same language. It must be very nice, if his brother wanted so badly to be right there. He would have to gather information.

Nevertheless, "London" was a word strictly forbidden since the last incident. There were no ways that Mycroft would mess up things again between him and his brother, and Sherlock, for his part, didn't speak at all, so there was no reason to say this word. However, their Father, unaware of what's was going on inside of his Mansion between his children, asked one day, about the whereabouts of his rendezvous with Mrs Hudson. Sherlock tensed and focused on his plate. Mycroft froze.

"Er… I am going tomorrow to see her. Mummy let me use her driver to go there."

Their Father hummed, and Mycroft really wondered if he was truly interested or if it was just for a bit of chit-chat.

Suddenly, Sherlock looked up from his dinner and stared at his brother.

-May I come with him?

Mummy was quite happy that her son seemed to properly talk to his brother. She couldn't let the chance pass away. Mycroft was about to say that, no, there was no way that a little boy as disobedient as Sherlock would come in a huge city as London, without an army of nannies at the very least.

But she was too quick and flashed him a bright smile while saying that his brother would be "DE-LIGHT-ED" to do such a thing. Was he? Nobody cared. He just accepted it, like so many things about his brother who always won when he wanted something.

The day after, Mycroft woke up to see his baby brother sat on (not at) the kitchen table, ready to go, coat and scarf on.

"Morning, Sherlock."

He went to the cupboard to make him tea, and there was no answer. He turned toward him until the kettle was boiling.

"Is there a mute button?"

He went and touched all the ticklish spots he could find, until Sherlock was a mess made of giggling.

"Better that way", he said, sipping his tea.

"When are you going to be ready, Mycroft? I'm waiting for you!" whined Sherlock.

"Look who is impatient to leave the Mansion now?" he said, teasing. "Okay, I'll be back in… Twenty minutes, alright? Don't do anything to the kitchen, or Mummy will not be that pleased if she has to repair it again!"

Mycroft was not going to let get away his chance to reconciliation with his brother right now. He raced up to his bedroom, took a quick shower, shaved, and put his suit on.

Twenty minutes later, he was ready to go.

[...]

The journey was very calm, until they reached London. Sherlock, who has never been in a huge city, kept bouncing in the car, from a window to the other to have a better look at some things. Mycroft was very pleased but was beginning to have a headache too. He fought very hard to keep Sherlock in his seat with his belt.

Somehow, they went in front of New Scotland Yard, and somehow, there were a lot of officers outside. Sherlock kept his nose stuck to the window the whole time. They look like bees he thought.

"-Mycroft, what are they doing?"

"-Hmm? Oh. I don't know Sherlock, maybe you could ask them", said his big brother very tiredly, on the verge of sleeping.

That's why, when they stopped at a red light, Sherlock undid his security belt, and get off the car, before his brother could actually do anything. He ran and reached a group of officers. He was a little shy and not sure as to why he was there, because Mycroft could always find an answer to everything so it didn't feel right to be here, with strangers. He grabbed a coat of someone lightly, as he did when his mother was here, and just follow the officer, to see what he was doing.

The man looked very tired, Sherlock thought. He didn't bother to look up from his files while entering the building and Sherlock wonders if he was a good man. He looked like one.

However, when the man wanted to get through the security agent, the former stopped the other man.

"-Er.. Sir? Do you know that you can't bring a child in, yeah?"

The good man stopped dead and looked up to the agent curiously, a bit confused and annoyed.

"Course, I do. Why did you… Holy crap!" He said, when he followed the man gaze on his coat.

Sherlock frowned. "That's not a very good word for a good man".

"-Are you lost? What's your name?"

That was it. The D.I was going to lose it. He had a very nasty crime to solve, and now a, what… 6 years old was grabbing him like he was a giant plush. Lost child was not his division. He even hadn't have a bloody microphone as they do in the shop mall to make an announcement.

The child was about to answer when his name was repeated loudly by a male voice.

"-Sherlock! Sherlock! Oh god, I thought I lost you, and we hadn't been here since an hour! Do not do this to me again, Sherlock Holmes!"

The child looked defeated, and on the verge of crying –which was the worst thing the DI could actually imagine.

"-You told me to ask, and I even hadn't the chance to!"

"-Wait! You know him?" asked a confused D.I.

"-Oh I believe I do." He checked out the D.I with a piercing glance before raising his hand. "Mycroft Holmes. Meet my brother, Sherlock Holmes. D.I…?"

"-Detective Inspector Gregory Lestrade." They shook their hands.

The D.I frowned. He looked at the child, then at the young man in front of him. Quite a sight, if you'd ask him. The little monster pouted a bit (because he was too young to shake his hand with strangers), and then reported his attention on him.

"-Why are you reading this file outside? Don't you have a desk? Mummy says that it's dangerous to read while walking, you can bump in someone else."

"-I'm a bit busy right now, I have to do a lot of things in a short time, but your mum is right, I shouldn't do that."

"-See Sherlock? Now, come on, we have to find Baker Street. We are going to be late." Mycroft said, while tearing Sherlock apart from the DI's coat. He cupped him in his arms and thanked the DI for his patience.

The D.I smiled. Baker Street? He thought while looking at the two while they disappeared in a black car. He would have to be right there once in a while… By chance, obviously.

_A/N: I'm quite quick at updating, as you can see it... =). _

_Next Chapters: Sherlock and Mycroft go on their short trip in London. Greg, obviously, doesn't know that they are in town just for a few days. Maybe an encounter with a little John? _


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N : Want to know a secret ? :) I'm French, that's why I make so many mistakes. I don't know if it's that obvious and I'm curious to know if you had deduced it, so you could send me a review just to tell me that?**

**+ I'm not pleased with that chapter. I'm sorry, I will try to get it better later.**

Baker Street, Baker Street… God, that was tedious. His little brother was glued to his hand with all his strength AND he didn't find the very street.

"-Mycroft, my foot hurt. I want to come home now."

"-Sherlock, if you didn't run off the car, I wouldn't have to say to the driver to join us at Baker street and we would actually be there in time and together, by car."

"-Could you pick me up at least?"

"-No, you are far too heavy now that you are a big boy." Mycroft said, smiling. Sherlock crossed his arms and pouted… Before giving it another try.

"-Please?"

"-No, Sherlock."

"-I could lend you Skull!?"

Mycroft huffed. What could he do with a plush when he was a grown man? A scarecrow? A target of darts?

Nevertheless, Skull or not, he knew he would actually end up by taking him in his arms. That was how it worked. Brotherly instinct and stuff like that.

[...]

Ten minutes later, a very exhausted Mycroft knocked on the door of 221b Baker Street, carrying a very asleep Sherlock. The woman who opened the door seemed to melt at this view.

"- Oh, poor boys! Come on, come on, don't stay outside like that. You are Mycroft Holmes, aren't you? I didn't understand that you was already a parent and that there would be two of you, but that's fine! There are two bedrooms! Looks like as if I was a Grandma! Tea?" she said, as she pushed him in 221B.

The flat seemed very old for a teenager but Mycroft didn't mind.

"-That would be lovely" answered Mycroft, sitting down on the couch. His brother yawned a bit and snuggled closer in the crook of Mycroft's neck. Quiet before the storm, thought the elder Holmes sadly. "Though, Sherlock is my brother, not my son, I would be very young for that sort of things, wouldn't I? I'm barely twenty… He just… wanted to see where I am going to live" He dared say.

"-You never know! I know someone who has a baby girl, and she is only nineteen! Plus you look older than that, sunshine. Now, come on, she said putting a cup in front of him, drink!"

Mycroft obeyed. There was an awkward silence. He didn't dare to say something else, other than flat stuff like rent, because he didn't want to stay here all the day, as the lady seemed very fond of babbling. Luckily, that was his little brother who seemed to hold her interest the most…

[...]

"-I don't want to return here Mycroft" said Sherlock, as they climbed in their car, a few hours later.

"- Oh? Why is that so?" asked Mycroft. (Although he knew very well the answer.)

"-She kept speaking all the time, and touching my hair and… calling me names, and made me eat all kind of biscuits! Mycroft you can't live there! You will become fat! And I can't have a fat brother." he replied, very dramatically for a young boy.

"-Stop being childish Sherlock. I have already signed the papers, and she kept doing this because you are a cute boy, aren't you?" the elder Holmes said on a teasing tone.

"- No! I am not! Pirates are not cute! Look Mycroft, look! Grr!"

Mycroft chuckled and played along, until his brother fell asleep.

[...]

He looked out through the window silently. He supposed that all went well. He would be moving in a few weeks. He didn't lose his brother more than once –he made a note to be more careful of what he said while he was tired from now. And London was great.

London, for Sherlock, was a fabulous memory. He explained to his parents how sure he was to find some treasures and villains there. He explained that he had met a walking dead man reading files in front of a beehive, and how he had eaten biscuits, as big as flying saucers, that he had never wanted in the first place.

But as the date of Mycroft's departure approached, London seemed more of a nightmare for Sherlock. He remembered that there were a lot of noises, of people and it was so huge… Mycroft would never return in the Holmes Estate. Maybe he would find a treasure and keep it for himself. Maybe that landlady would replace their mother for him.

For the second time, Sherlock shut down. He barely ate and talked. Nobody cared, assuming that he was just in one of his "mood".

[...]

One term had already passed, and London life suited Mycroft very well. He didn't go out often, worked very hard, but appreciated that London was full of life. Almost like a friend. It provided him so much fun, even alone. There was so much to discover, so much people to deduce.

He had just finished one of his homework when the phone rang. He was surprised, his family knew very well that he didn't like calls, and he has no friend. Nevertheless, he picked it up, a bit annoyed, seeing that it was his mother.

"- Good evening Mummy."

"- Mycroft, how good it is to hear you." Her voice was sad, tired and empty.

"- Pleasure is mine. [A pause] Do you really call just to hear my voice?" he asked, a bit suspicious as the silent grew more and more.

"-Obviously not. He heard her shifted uncomfortably. Listen Mycroft, did you recall how Sherlock was when you left?

How he was supposed to forget that? Strangely enough, that went rather well. If you could call "well" the fact that his brother didn't throw a fit, just because he didn't came at all to see him neither before he left nor while he was leaving.

"-Er… yes, I do. How is he?"

"-Actually… Not that good. I would like that you see him by yourself. "

That was a bit surprising. And cryptic.

"-Why? Did he say that he wanted to come over here? Does he want to see me?"

He tried to sound casual but he knew very well that it sounded as hopeful he was. She didn't reply at first.

"-He gets along with everything. He is very quiet and he no longer does his experiments."

Oi. That was not as good as it sounded.

Their mother had always been very open-minded with her genii children. Not as tough as it should have been. Overtaken with the events. Happy with everything, as their father. They felt so alone. He realized how hard it has to be for Sherlock to be there. He gulped; because he couldn't help guilt took over him.

"I thought that if he could stay with you during the holidays, he would maybe… I don't know… Mycroft, I don't know, and he is my child! I had already done everything I could do and everything I could think of, and he doesn't get better. Nothing I could do…" She sniffed and Mycroft knew she was about to cry. Wait, cry? Oh God. No. No. Not that again.

"-Alright, ALRIGHT, calm down! There… Breathe slowly… There. If you could persuade him to come here, I will see what I can do, okay?"

Mycroft was not pleased with that. Baby sit was not his fort. But what can he do? Let his brother down? His Mother would never forgive him for that, and he would never hear the end of it. Again, he accepted it, like everything else when it came to his brother. However, knowing that her mother would have hell coming for trying to get his brother in front of his door looked fair and he was looking forwards it.

[...]

The second week-end of December, a little boy with a funny hat and curly hair was sitting on a huge suitcase, in front of 221B Baker Street. His arms were crossed, and he stared obstinately at the front door, as if he could open it with superior mind strength. He had fought tooth and nails to stay at the Holmes Manor on Christmas Holidays, pouting, crying, pleading.

He. Didn't. Want. To. Be. There.

Mycroft opened the front door, and barely had the time to register that a little shadow pass quickly with a suitcase directly in the room upstairs, and slammed the bedroom door.

That will be fun, thought Mycroft.

_A/N: Next time, I promise there will be the meeting with John! _


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N: I'm sorry I took that long to update, but I am in exam period and it is pretty hard :). Nevertheless, I wrote a bit more this time, and I hope you are going to enjoy it._

Mycroft barely had the chance to see his little brother. All conveyed the impression that he lived with a ghost. No noise, no "Mycroft, could you…", nothing. At all.

That was odd actually.

He worried a lot, coming in front of his bedroom but couldn't resign himself to knock and enter. What would he say? "Hello, you are not making any noise, which is disturbing; you used to do a lot of it before! Before I left I mean. You know, I am not against the idea of letting you blow up the whole building with an experiment if it means you actually DO something."

That was hardly diplomatic. And he was not sure if Mrs Hudson had signed a reassurance-life. Which was a huge issue, wasn't it? And then he remembered that he would end up doing a lot of paper work if he did so, just for a few old brick. Tedious.

Then, one day, while Sherlock was sneaking into the kitchen around 3 a.m (when he was sure that his brother was asleep so he could eat a bit in peace), Mycroft appeared in the doorframe. He knew his brother's tactic and had made a long nap in the afternoon to be SURE that he would catch his brother. Ha! Didn't see it coming, did he? He was pretty pleased with himself when he lighted the room and saw his brother's surprised. He didn't show it though and made a blank mask instead.

"-Need any help?" He said, looking right in his brother's eyes.

"-As if! I don't need a baby sitter, Mycroft." Sherlock replied. He then went on with making his breakfast, and grabbed a chair; put it in front of a counter board with a "huff", due to his efforts and ignoring Mycroft's gaze. He was rather cute, climbing on top of it, and leaning a hand to catch the cupboard, but not successfully, Mycroft thought. He moved towards him and handed him some cereals. "Hey! I don't need help!" Sherlock hissed.

"-Didn't look like that to me." Mycroft smirked a bit, then regained his composure and took his best "stop-being-childish-Sherlock" face. "Look, I am here to make a deal. And when I say "deal", I, in fact, don't let you any choice." He paused, and saw that his brother wasn't looking at him and was purposely being ignored as if he was a wall or a cupboard. He sighed and went on anyway. "I'll let you go home…" –that caught his brother's attention, "in three days, for Christmas…" his brother made a middle disappointed/eager face, "if you spend some time with me". That was the final straw, and Sherlock looked properly horrified, as if Mycroft was going to jump on him and made him look some stupid child TV programs –which was a bit too much, even to torture his genius brother, Mycroft had to admit. "You can't return home without visiting London with me. Mummy will be disappointed, and you know it." That was not very fair to play this card, but Sherlock knew how his mother was nowadays always behind him and trying so hard to make him do… "things", like going out or making experiments or whatever. All he wanted was that people let him be. In peace, if possible. He supposed that if he agreed with it, he would be a lot easier to get rid of his mother a bit. Mycroft could almost hear the wheels in action in Sherlock's brain, and let down his last card. "I am not asking to be together all day. I ask three hours per day. If that doesn't work before the end of the three day, I'll let you go pack your things and I'll say to Mummy that you look a bit ill and you would be better at home". His brother chewed his breakfast thoughtfully. These nine hours will be hell. But he would be home for Christmas…

"-Okay."

And just like that, Mycroft disappeared, and made no move to show that he had heard but Sherlock knew better. He finished his breakfast, put all his dishes in the sink and went in "his" bedroom. Tomorrow will be awful, he would need some rest.

[…]

Mycroft was nervous. He knew his brother better than to think he would give up on his liberty, even if it was for nine hours, so easily. What if he loses him again in London? What if his brother makes a tantrum? There were so many scenarios that his head spun when he considered it. First things first, he thought. First, take Sherlock out a bit, and THEN panic.

"-Sherlock, come here! A deal is a deal!" he shouted towards the bedroom upstairs.

"-Alright, coming… No need to shout, I am not THAT old." Sherlock said grumpily. "Where are we going anyway? I assume that I can't pick up what I want, can I?"

"-Tomorrow maybe. I already made a timetable for today. There is a new exhibition in town, about human and animal history. I thought it would please you."

That was his plan. It was a closed space, so no escapes. Alright, at the very least, not as dangerous as if they were in the zoo or anywhere else… And it was supposed to entertain a bit Sherlock, and in the meanwhile, it was an interesting thing to see. Plus, this one was not very crowded. Jackpot!

Sherlock hummed quickly, but he was in fact very happy with all that. He wouldn't have to talk to his brother and it sounded… Cool.

[…]

They went through all kind of corridors and rooms. It was endearing to see Sherlock bouncing every time he saw something which caught his attention. They saw a lot of skeletons and animals stuffed (a bit disgusting in Mycroft's mind, and totally useless in Sherlock's). Sherlock spend his time with his eyes very close to the show windows though, "just to see". Mycroft would usually find a bench and sit while Sherlock examined all the things before doing the same thing in the next room.

"-You know, you will get stuck to the show windows if you stay like that".

Sherlock turned around to see where that came from. In front of him was a boy, a bit older than him, with big blue eyes and blond hair, who smiled broadly at him, like in the telly for the toothpaste. He was in a wheel chair.

"-That would be unlikely". Sherlock said a bit disdainful, and suspicious, eyeing quickly the wheelchair. In the corner of his eyes, he spotted Mycroft who looked at them, with a worried glance. He was still sitting in his bench but was ready to intervene. How annoying. He sighed and looked at the boy. "If you had seen the exhibition correctly, which I assume, because you blink a lot, which suggest that you had been there for a while, reading and exposed to the bright light of the exhibition, which provide you a headache, then you know that humans don't come from some jellyfish, and I am not an exception. I don't have tentacles." With that, he returned to his study of a very interesting collection of butterflies, making clear that he didn't want to talk. The boy must be stupid, though, because he went on babbling.

"-I was joking."

"-That wasn't funny. If you intend to be a comic, change your mind. Quickly."

"-In fact, I want to be a veterinarian."

"-How touchy. That's a very common choice of job. I think you talk a lot for a future veterinarian, whereas the animals don't. You won't get along."

"-So it is for the better." Sherlock spun around, and saw that the boy had a playful smile on his lips. "I am going to do it anyways. Plus, animals can't say nasty things", the boy added with a knowing tone. Sherlock looked at his wheelchair and supposed that children had to mock him for that. The blond held up his hand. "-I am John. Stubborn could be my middle name."

"-Stubbornness could lead to stupidity."

"-Says the boy who always want to do a punch line."

An amused glint passed through Sherlock's eyes. That boy was funny, not in the ways he wanted, but he was definitely funny. He took his hand, glad that he could do a handshake, as his brother.

"-John. Common. Veterinarian. Common. Please, remind me why we are talking?" He trailed off on a neutral tone.

"-Sorry, everybody can't be a mix of human and jellyfish!" John added with a chuckle.

"-Don't be an idiot, or I won't talk to you!"

"-Depends on what you intend to do next. I could always explain you the characteristics of these birds over there" he pointed to the next room. "I am getting bored. I already know all this stuff, we are here for my sister who has do to a homework on animals. Although you could also be quiet and listen to me, that would do too."

"-As if!"

[…]

Mycroft, on the other hand, didn't get Sherlock off his sight. God forbids, he won't lose him again. He was also a bit curious as to why his brother followed some ordinary child. Surely, there were no many children of Sherlock age in this exhibition, but he didn't find a reason as to why. Did he threaten him? Say he would share his candy? He began to worry. Not good. Control yourself for god sake, Mycroft! He stayed behind them, a good distance behind them actually. He knew that Sherlock had let him know to follow them by gotten a glance to his brother before getting out of the butterflies' room. He was too far to understand what they were saying, but Mycroft saw that his brother, who always made a point to stride past people, took his time to walk at the same time that the boy pushed his wheelchair. That was rather cute. He will deny it though, because his brother would rip his hair for saying something like that.

That was the beginning of a LONG time in the birds' room. The boys kept talking animatedly, pointed things over the room, shaking their heads each time they thought that the other was wrong. But a few smiles was also spotted, between the two. They obviously had found in the other an equal.

When the three hours were about to ending, Mycroft headed to his brother.

"-Er… You know, there is a strange guy who follows us since the butterfly's room." John said, seeing that the man in question was about to reach them. He was a bit worried, because his parents were at the opposite of the room and couldn't see him, because they were looking at something, hang on the wall. Instead, he reminded himself how to get rid of an ill-intentioned person –scream, and maybe sway his wheelchair on his feet.

"Don't worry, he won't do anything to you, except if you touch is umbrella." Sherlock whispered in his ear, just before Mycroft appeared in front them.

"Hello gentlemen" He greeted them on a light tone, before turning in front of his brother. "The three hours are ending in… Three… Two… One… Now, in fact. We could go and return at Baker Street and I let you do what you want there."

"- You know him?" John said looking between the two of us, worried.

Sherlock ignored him and looked at his brother with an annoyed face. "Well, a deal is a deal, I am not sure we can say that I spend the three hours with you. I better have to do the things rightly because I don't want you to say at the end that I cheated and I can't come home to Mummy."

"-Wait, he is your brother, and you let him in the Museum alone? That is not really nice… Hey, I don't even know your name!" He sounded a bit angry, and Mycroft, suspicious but rather content to have to deal with a "normal" child, looked at him and smile as gently as he could.

"-No worries. Sherlock had fun with you, which were all I wanted. I am going to meet your parents and present ourselves, in case you wanted to see you again and let us know where we live, then Sherlock and I would come home, alright?

He didn't wait for a reply and went right for John's parents.

"-How does he know who my parents are?" John gaped at Sherlock, who just shrugged; he didn't want to explain obvious stuff. There was a silence between the two, who just stared at each other.

"-Don't look at me like that, sighed Sherlock, yes, we could see each other again."

John relaxed in his wheelchair. "-Tomorrow is my birthday. I planned to go to the amusement park. Do you want to come with me?"

Sherlock stiffened. "Not sure about that. There will be a lot of people and I don't want to do stupid things like rising in boats in shapes of swans or stuff like that. Who did that in real life anyway?"

John looked at him, visibly hurt. He loved that boats, and he loved swans. And he loved amusement park. That always sounded fun. Plus, he couldn't do many things, because of his handicap. Calm merry go rounds were always a bit easier to reach because there were less people. "Oh. Alright."

Sherlock' eyes flickered, not sure about what he had done to ruin that. He didn't notice that Mycroft and John's parents were about to return to them.

"-Oh dearie! You have a new friend, haven't you?" She looked at Sherlock with a genuine smile, who instantly got closer to his brother, staying not too far from John too. "Look, tomorrow is John's birthday and we all will go to the amusement park, you could go with us!"

"-Mum, I am not sure Sherlock want to be…"

"-Sherlock will be delighted to go out a bit with his new friend." Mycroft said at the same time. "I can always survey them while you do some attractions that John's sister would want to and John can't."

"-What a wonderful idea! That is settled then! We will meet there at 10 a.m?"

"-That's okay. See you tomorrow then!"

The adults looked expectantly at the children to make their good byes, but nothing came. John kept looking everywhere but at Sherlock, who just stared at him, wondering how he could make up thing again. This John was very cool. He didn't want to hurt him. They parted away finally, awkwardly and silently each one with their family. That was when Sherlock was about to exit, and John with his family about to take the lift, that Sherlock ran to John. Mycroft was on his heels a moment after he registered that his brother was no longer by his side. He caught the lift and leant against the button who kept the doors of the lift opened while his brother entered in it.

"-John! John!" The said child looked at him with a questioning look in his eyes." Skull wanted to say something to you!" Sherlock pressed up his plush against John's ear, and there was a silence. Then he mouthed the words "I am sorry". His back was turned to the adults, thus they can't see what was going on. Sherlock was not an affectionate boy, and he didn't want to share this with anyone else. However, his brother who looked into the lift's mirror, who faced Sherlock, had seen what he had said.

Rather cute, indeed.

_A/N: I tried to make some parallels between the series and this fiction, I don't know if it was good or not. Next time: Amusement Park (That sounds fun ;) )_


End file.
